Page 74 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘I assure you, she has. Three hours ago I waved her off on the coach to Bath.’

‘No.’ He staggered backwards and sat down. This wasn’t how this afternoon was meant to go. As he had been riding over, he had thought and thought about what he was going to say to Jane. He knew he had to tell her he loved her, that the scandal and his desire for a happy family for Edward were not the only reasons he knew marriage to her was the right thing. He had hoped when they were together, when he could hold her hands and look into her eyes, the words would come naturally and she would be able to see what lay in his heart.

‘She decided to return to Somerset.’ Lady Mountjoy looked at him with a dejected expression. ‘She is convinced you do not love her.’

Tom closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Of course I love her. How could I not?’

‘Then whatever has been stopping you from telling that poor girl you feel the same way she does?’

‘I need to find her. The coach left three hours ago, you say?’

‘Yes. It will be on the road out of London now.’

He took his pocket watch out of his jacket and checked the time. Nightfall was only a few hours away and it would be treacherous to ride in the dark on the poorly maintained roads. Conditions were worse the further you got out of London and, as much as he wanted to reach Jane as quickly as possible, he knew he couldn’t risk his horse’s safety to do so.

‘I will bring her back,’ he said, standing abruptly.

‘Be careful.’

He bowed and then strode from the house. Even though he wanted to set off immediately, he knew charging out into the darkness unprepared was beyond foolish. Tonight he would ready his horse and ensure his affairs were in order and tomorrow he would leave at dawn. Even with the head start, the coach would make slow progress, and he would likely catch up with it tomorrow evening before it stopped for the night.

Rationally, he knew twenty-four hours was hardly any time to wait, but it felt like an eternity. He had a sense of urgency, a need to tell Jane how he felt now he had worked it out for himself.

Twenty-four hours later, Tom was wet and cold, cursing the English weather and wondering whether the warmer days of spring would ever arrive. A steady drizzle had plagued him all day, slowly soaking through his coat and penetrating his clothes layer by layer. He was now so stiff he doubted he would be able to straighten up if he dismounted and he had ceased being able to feel the ends of his fingers about an hour ago.

The light was fading fast and, although a local had assured him it was only another few minutes to the coaching inn, he was beginning to doubt whether this stage of his journey would ever end.

Time and time again throughout the day he had been splattered by thick mud as coaches rolled past, and for one of the only times in his life he wished he had been sensible enough to travel in the comfort of his own carriage rather than on horseback.

Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, he murmured a few words of encouragement to Rupert as he spotted the faint glow of an oil lamp ahead. Slowly the coaching inn came into view, a long, squat building that looked as if it had stood in the same position for hundreds of years. The yard was large and well maintained and Tom was thankful when a stable boy ran out to greet him as he entered through the gate.

‘Give him a good brush down for me,’ Tom said, passing a couple of coins to the young boy.

‘Yes, sir. I’ll make sure he is fed and watered too.’

‘Thank you.’

Tom peered around him, noting the two carriages stationary on one side of the yard. It was highly likely that one of the coaches was the one headed to Bath, the one Jane was travelling on. Unless they had made extraordinarily good progress, they couldn’t have reached much further before the light had begun to fail, and Tom knew there wasn’t another coaching inn for ten miles.

Looking down at himself, he grimaced. He was hardly the suave and charming man the gossips liked to paint him, splattered top-to toe in mud and grunting at the stiffness in his muscles. All the same, he moved as quickly as he could towards the entrance, wondering if Jane would be sitting in the dining area or if she would have already retired to her room.

‘Filthy weather still, I see, sir.’ An older man with a friendly smile greeted him as he entered.

‘Indeed.’

‘Will you be wanting a room?’

‘Yes.’ He hoped they had something available as, now he had dismounted, he doubted he would be able to get back on his horse.

‘I will show you up in a moment, sir. Would you like a drink or something to eat first?’

There was an enticing smell coming from the dining room and Tom knew his body would appreciate a good meal and a spot by a roaring fire.

‘Later, perhaps, but first I need to know—has the coach to Bath stopped here?’

‘Yes, sir. Filled most of our rooms.’

‘Good. I’ve been riding all day to catch up with it. I am looking for a Miss Jane Ashworth.’